Payback
by Welly
Summary: Things go from bad to worse for Greg.
1. Default Chapter

**Title: Payback Author: Welly Fandom: CSI Pairings: None Spoilers: None Series/sequel: Nada Archive? Feel free. Disclaimer: I own nothing. NOTHING. Summary: Er, um, Greg goes out in the field. He comes back, after shooting a suspect. He disappears. Where did he go? What will he be like when he comes back?**

A/N: This story starts with something happy, and then soon turns downhill. Muahaha.

**CHAPTER 1**

It was a bright sunny day in Las Vegas. The perfect day to get married, especially if you were Greg and Sara.

As it happens, this _was_ their wedding day.

They'd been engaged for six months, as Sara had wanted a summer wedding. If it was up to Greg, he would have whisked her off to Norway for a Christmas wedding, but for reasons unknown to him, the wedding would be in Las Vegas.

Greg was stood at the front of the little church. Nick was his best man. "What if she doesn't turn up?"

"She'll turn up," said Nick reassuringly.

"What if she doesn't?"

"Greg, she loves you. She'll be here."

The organ music started.

"Is that her?"

Nick turned around. "It's her. She's beautiful."

"Am I allowed to turn around?"

"Not yet."

"Does she look nice?"

"Definitely. Greg, you're a very lucky man."

Greg smiled. "Thanks."

Sara came up to the front of the church, and stood next to Greg. She smiled. "Hey baby."

"Hey," whispered Greg.

"Ladies and gentlemen," began the priest. "We are gathered here today to witness the joining in holy matrimony of these two people, Greg Sanders, and Sara Sidle."

Greg looked across to Sara. She was mouthing something to him, but he couldn't make out the words. He gave her a confused look. "I don't understand."

"Greg! Wake up!"

Greg gasped, and opened his eyes.

"Earth to Greg!" said Sara, waving her hands in front of the newly-qualified CSI's face. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," sighed Greg, sitting up on the sofa in the break room and rubbing his eyes.

"You were fast asleep," giggled Sara.

"It's been a long day," said Greg. "What's up?"

"I need you out in the field with me," explained Sara. "It's a rough part of Vegas, I don't want to go by myself."

"I'll come with you," offered Greg.

"Thank you," smiled the older CSI.

Grissom came into the room. "We off then?"

"Huh?" said Sara, turning around. "Oh, I just asked Greg."

"Well, why don't all three of us go?" asked Grissom. "We'll be done quicker that way."

"Okay," said Sara, satisfied that she'd be safe.

!"£&()+

A/N: What, you thought I'd actually let Greg and Sara live happily ever after! Haha, you don't know me very well... This actually, though, is going to be one of the few stories I write where Sara DOESN'T die. Are you impressed?


	2. 2

A/N: Ooh, a bit of danger in this chapter. Not much though, but it is there... muahaha.

**CHAPTER 2**

"This looks a rough place," said Greg, as the three CSIs climbed out of Grissom's Tahoe.

"Yeah, it does," added Sara.

"Don't worry," said Grissom. "There's three of us here, so we won't be that long."

"If you say so," mumbled Sara.

"Hey, don't worry," said Greg playfully. "I'm here."

Sara grinned.

"Shall we go inside?" asked Grissom.

!"£&()+

"Sara, I think I've got something," Greg called from the kitchen. A few seconds later, Sara came into the room. She dumped her kit bag in the doorway. "What's up?"

"Murder weapon?" asked Greg, innocently holding up a shot gun.

Sara smiled. "Could be."

"Do we have bags big enough for this?" asked Greg.

"I think there's a couple back in the car."

"I'll go get one," said Greg. He bent down and laid the shot gun on the kitchen floor. As he stood up, he saw a man stood behind Sara, slowly leveling his gun at the back of Sara's head. "Sara!" he yelled, pulling his own weapon and training it on the man.

Sara span around, and saw the man. She gasped. The man turned around, and ran out of the house. Greg followed him, and Sara joined in the chase as well. The man stopped at the end of the drive. He shot at Sara. He missed. Sara shot back. She missed. The man shot at Greg. Greg shot back, and hit the man in the chest. He dropped to the ground. Greg ran to his side, to see how badly hurt he was. The man grabbed Greg's arm, and coughed some blood.

"I'm sorry," apologised Greg quietly.

"You're going to pay for this," gasped the man. He drew his last breath, coughed up some more blood, and died. Greg felt him go limp in his arms.

"Greg!" said Sara, putting her hand on her friend's shoulder. "Oh my God!"

"He's dead," said Greg, standing up. "I killed him."

"It's not your fault," said Sara.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!" asked Grissom, coming down the drive. "I heard gun shots. Talk to me. Greg? Sara?"

"I, er-" began Greg.

"Uh, we had a suspect on the scene," began Sara. "Greg was protecting me. The suspect shot at us. We shot back."

"I killed him," mumbled Greg.

Grissom sighed, and rubbed his temples. "I'm going to need both of your weapons."

"So we've got to process the rest of this scene without any way of protecting ourselves!" asked Greg.

"Well, you said you just killed the suspect-"

"That doesn't mean there was only one perp," said Sara, sticking up for Greg.

"Sara, it's protocol," frowned Grissom. "I've got to."

"Fine," said Sara. She handed her weapon over to her supervisor. Greg followed suit.

!"£&()+

A/N: Oh, Greg killed a suspect. That's not good... Especially not for him...

P.S I'm looking for a beta reader. Anyone interested? Anyone want to read my stories before anyone else does? Anyone any good at English?


	3. 3

A/N: The CSIs go back to the lab...

**CHAPTER 3**

"Hey," said Greg sadly, going into the locker room where Sara was changing back into her lab clothes. "Look, about earlier-"

"Hey," smiled Sara. "Don't beat yourself up about it. You did exactly the right thing."

"Grissom doesn't think so," sighed Greg, collapsing onto the bench. "He's mad."

"He's not mad," said Sara. "I just think he'd rather the suspect not be dead."

"And I killed him," said Greg. "I've never killed anyone before."

"Greg, it's not like you planned on doing it."

"That doesn't make a difference. Sara, I killed another person. That's wrong."

"It was self defense."

Greg stared at the floor. "Did you know he had a family? A wife and two children?"

"No. I didn't know that."

"four and eight. I've taken their father away from them."

"Greg, it wasn't your fault."

"Yes it was!" protested Greg. "I was the one that shot him."

"Yeah, and if my aim wasn't so lousy, I would have killed him," replied Sara. "Greg, you can't blame yourself for this, I won't let you."

"Greg!" said Grissom, standing in the doorway.

Greg looked up. Grissom didn't look happy.

"My office. Now."

Greg sighed, stood up, looked at Sara, and then headed out of the room. Grissom followed, and closed the door once they'd both gotten into his office. He sat down behind his desk, pulled off his glasses, and looked at Greg. "What happened?"

"Where do you want me to start from?"

"The beginning," said Grissom coldly.

Greg took a deep breath. "I was in the kitchen. I found a shot gun. I called Sara into the room. I asked if we had a big enough bag for the shot gun."

"We have them in the car."

"That's what Sara said. I put the gun down, and saw a man stood behind Sara. He ran out the house, we followed him-"

"Is that when you shot him?"

"Let me finish," said Greg quietly. "He shot at Sara."

"And then you shot him?"

Greg shook his head. "No, it wasn't like that. You don't understand."

"Then explain it to me!"

"I will! If you give me a chance to finish a sentence without interrupting!"

Grissom frowned.

"Sorry," said Greg, quickly retreating. He took another breath. "He shot at Sara. She shot back. She missed. The guy shot at me. I shot back, I had to, and I hit him."

Grissom sighed. "Greg, you've been authorized to carry a side arm for, uh, TWO DAYS! and already you've shot and killed someone. Do you know how that looks?"

"It shouldn't look like anything," said Greg. "I did exactly what I should have done, and it would be better if you showed me a bit more support, like Sara is."

"Ah, yes, you and Sara."

"What about me and Sara!" asked Greg.

"You're very protective of her, aren't you?"

"Yes. She's my friend. I'm protective of a lot of people."

"Greg, when we're in the field, we have to learn to leave our emotions at home."

"What, like you do?"

Grissom frowned. "Excuse me?"

"Grissom, I can't be like you," said Greg, standing up. "I can't help it if I actually have feelings."

"Where are you going?"

"Away from you. Because if I stay, I'm going to say something I'll regret, and you're obviously mad at me, so I'd rather not be here if it's all the same to you."

"Greg!"

It was too late, Greg was already half way out the lab.

!"£&()+

"What did you say to Greg?" asked Sara, handing Grissom a mug of coffee. "He looked really upset just now."

"We had words," said Grissom.

"I gathered that."

"What do you want me to say?" asked Grissom. "And to be perfectly honest, it's not really any of your business."

"Fine!" said Sara, getting up to leave the break room. "Just forget I said anything."

!"£&()+

A/N: Next time out... something turns out wrong...


	4. 4

A/N: Some strong language in this chapter... Especially from Nick... Just thought I'd tell you, don't want to offend anyone.

**CHAPTER FOUR**

"Greg's pissed," sighed Nick. He, Catherine, Warrick, and Sara were sat around the table in the conference room, waiting for Grissom to arrive. They were having their traditional end-of-shift-takeaway.

"He thinks Grissom's mad at him," explained Catherine.

"He is mad," said Sara.

"Why?" asked Warrick.

"Because Greg shot a suspect."

"Damn!" said Nick. "What happened?"

"It's a long story."

"Did the guy die?" asked Catherine.

Sara nodded.

"Damn!" said Nick, again.

Grissom came into the room. The other CSIs quickly became silent. Grissom handed the takeaway pots to Catherine, and she dished them out. Grissom sat down. "Where's Greg?"

"No idea," said Warrick.

"I saw him heading out of the lab," said Nick.

"Catherine, will you please phone him?" asked Grissom.

"Sure," said Catherine. She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket, and scrolled through the phone book till she came to Greg's name. She hit the little green phone, and waited for the line to connect. It didn't, it went straight to voice-mail.

"Hey, this is Greg's phone. Leave a message, and I'll get back to you. Eventually."

"Greg, it's Catherine. Where are you? Look, phone me when you get this, alright?" She put her phone back in her pocket. "Voice mail."

"I hope nothing bad's happened," said Nick.

"He probably just forgot to charge the battery," said Sara optimistically.

"Shall we get started?" asked Grissom, who wasn't too concerned about his missing team member.

But Grissom should have been concerned, because there was a bit more wrong with Greg than just having a flat battery on his phone.

!"£&()+

A/N: So, what do we think could be wrong with young wegg? Find out in the next chapter...


	5. 5

A/N: So, last time out, I hinted that there's bad times ahead for young wegg... here's the start of things to come...

**CHAPTER FIVE**

Greg opened his eyes slowly, and looked around. Where was he? The last thing Greg remembered, he had been walking home, but Greg wasn't in his home now, he was somewhere else. He was in a room with bare walls, and no windows, and a staircase leading up to the ceiling. Greg figured he was probably in a basement. Greg's figuring was right.

The door to the room opened, and footsteps came down the stairs. Greg looked up at who the face belonged to. He didn't recognise the man. Greg stood up. "Who are you? Why did you bring me here?"

The man punched Greg, and Greg dropped to his knees, rubbing his cheek. He went to stand up, but the man grabbed Greg's hair. Tight. Greg whimpered slightly, the tension in his scalp was doing nothing to help the already pounding in his head. "Get off me." Greg stood up slightly, and tried to pull his hair free. He put his hands on the top of his head, which left the rest of him unprotected, and his captor kicked him in the stomach, which knocked the wind out of Greg and he dropped to his knees again. The man brought his knee up into Greg's face, and Greg cried out in pain. His attacker let go of Greg's hair, and Greg dropped onto his stomach, dazed. He rolled onto his side, and tried to crawl away from his attacker, to escape, but his attacker easily caught him, and pinned him to the ground. He knelt on Greg's back. Greg cried out in pain.

"Listen to me, Sanders."

"Who are you?" whimpered Greg.

"Don't you recognise me?"

"No."

"Who do I look like?"

"I don't know."

"Let me refresh your memory," said the man, kneeling harder. "On the 7th of June, you went out to a scene, where you killed a man."

Greg gasped.

"Oh, you remember now? You remember the man you killed?"

Greg nodded.

"That man was my cousin, and you killed him. Do you have any idea of the suffering you've put his family through?"

Greg didn't say anything.

"You don't have an idea?" laughed the man. "Well, you will soon."

!"£&()+

A/N: Dum dum dumm. The cousin of the man Greg killed came back. Who saw that coming? I know I certainly didn't...


	6. 6

A/N: Didn't know how to work this in, but let's all pretend that Greg's captor's last name is Carson... Carson is quicker and easier to write than "Greg's captor", so that's what I'm going with... Does that make me a bad person?

There's also some insults going on in this chapter. Don't be offended by the fowl (is that the right spelling, or do I mean 'foul'?) language...

**CHAPTER SIX**

!"£&()+

Greg opened his eyes. The world was spinning. It took Greg several seconds to figure out that he was seeing things blurry, and that the world was actually still, and so was he. Greg closed his eyes, and when he opened them for the second time, the world was practically still, if not a little bit fuzzy around the edges.

"Here, idiot," spat Carson, his captor. "Drink this."

Greg looked up at the glass of water in front of him. He wanted to reach out and take it, but he couldn't, because he was still tied up, his hands in front of his waist. Carson instead, hauled Greg to his knees, and forced some of the water down his throat. It was at this point Greg really hoped it was water, because he was drinking it willingly, and if it wasn't water, then that would be really bad.

After a few seconds, even though the glass was still half full (or half empty, depending on how one thinks of it), Carson pulled the glass away, and smashed it on the floor. Greg winced, and Carson let him fall flat on his face. Greg rolled onto his side, and picked his face up from the concrete, which was scratching him. Greg wriggled in his restraints, the ropes around his wrists were digging in and cutting him.

"Ah, ah, don't do that," warned Carson.

Greg stopped struggling. He lay still.

"That's better," smiled Carson.

Greg blinked slowly.

The door to the room opened, and another man came in. He was another member of the carson family. He marched up to Greg, and drew a gun on him. Greg tried to retreat, but his new attacker grabbed his neck, and pressed the gun against his temple. Greg screwed his eyes up, waiting, expecting, for the man to pull the trigger.

"John, you twat, what the hell are you doing!"

John looked up from Greg, but Greg still didn't move.

"John, don't you dare kill him. I don't want him to die yet."

Greg opened his eyes slightly.

John pulled the gun away from Greg's temple. Greg exhaled, and closed his eyes, which brought the sudden pain from the gun shot wound to his stomach as even more of a surprise. Greg opened his eyes, he felt blood starting to ooze through his shirt. Before Greg had even had time to think about screaming, he found himself being picked up and carried out the room. Greg struggled against Carson, who then proceeded to drop him onto the concrete. Greg cried out in agony, and Carson picked him up again.

!"£&()+

A/N: Where are they taking young Wegg? I hope he's going to be okay...


	7. 7

A/N: That's enough of Wegg, let's see what the other CSIs are up to...

!"£&()+

"I definitely think there's something wrong," said Sara. "Greg wouldn't just disappear like this."

"No way," said Nick. "That's not him."

"What do you think could have happened?" asked Grissom. "Maybe he just slept in."

"Gris, how many times does Greg sleep in?" asked Sara plainly.

"Once a year, when the clocks go forward an hour," replied Grissom.

Sara smiled slightly. "And is today one of those times?"

"No."

"Exactly. Greg never turns up late," said Nick. "I'm telling you something's wrong."

"In all fairness Nick," began Grissom. "There's not really much I can do."

"Can I go round his house?" asked Nick. "See if he's there?"

"Fine. Go," said Grissom. "But don't be long."

"I won't," said Nick, standing up to leave the room.

"I'll come with you," said Sara, following her friend out. The two of them went around to Greg's house, where they found the back door kicked in, and some blood on the doorframe.

!"£&()+

A/N: Dum dum dum...


	8. 8

A/N:I think this chapter is quite scary. What about you?

!"£&()+

"FINE! DON'T BLAME ME IF HE DIES!"

And with that statement, Carly Watts stormed out of the ER. She worked there as a doctor, and had just gotten into an argument with her boss over a patient. Carly had diagnosed the patient with a serious condition, her boss had diagnosed him with appendicitis. Carly disagreed, and the two of them got into an argument.

Carly threw herself up against the wall, and sank down onto her haunches, cursing at the wheely bin a few metres away from her. "What are you staring at!" Carly pulled her packet of cigarettes out of her pocket, and lit one. On the second drag, a truck rushed into the ambulance bay, skidding to a stop. One of the doors opened, and a man jumped out. "Hey! Are you a doctor?"

"Depends," said Carly, standing up.

"Uh, a guy in my van has just been shot. Help!"

Carly rushed over to the side of the van, and as she peered inside, she was grabbed from behind, and shoved into the van. "Hey!" she screamed, trying to fight her attacker off, but he was stronger than she was, and soon the van was locked up, and heading out of the ambulance bay.

"Let me out!" protested Carly, grabbing at the door handle, but the door wouldn't budge.

"Are you gonna help that guy or not!"

Carly turned around, and saw a young man lying near the back of his van. He'd been beaten up beyond recognition, but was still conscious. Carly crawled over to him, and checked him for a pulse. He groaned, and she knew that he was still alive. "Don't worry, sir." Carly turned back to face the driver. "He needs to go to the hospital."

"No chance. He's not going anywhere. Are you going to help him, or what!"

Carly put her hand on the young man's cheek. "I will try to help him, but he needs medical attention."

"Are you an MD?"

"Yes."

"Then attend!"

"I don't have any of my kit here though. I need supplies to help him."

"Like what? Make a list, and I'll see what we can do."

Carly swore under her breath. She didn't like the situation that she was in. She didn't like it one bit. It was even worse than when a madman had come into the hospital and killed one of the nurses.

She looked back to the young man, and leant in close to him. "Hi. I'm Carly. What's your name?"

"Greg."

!"£&()+

A/N: Dum dum dum...


	9. 9

A/N: The CSIs begin to realise that something very bad has happened to Greg, though they still don't have any idea of how serious it is...

!"£&()+

"That's blood," said Sara, stating the obvious.

Nick swallowed hard. "Shall we phenylphthaline it, just to be sure?" He looked at Sara, who was already opening her kit. She swabbed the doorframe, and squirted some liquid onto the swab. It turned pink. "It's blood."

The two of them went inside, and processed the rest of Greg's house, before returning to the lab.

"What took you so long?" asked Grissom, going into the layout room where the two of them were setting up.

"Greg's been taken," said Nick. "We found blood, and signs of a struggle at his house. The reason we took so long is because we were processing his house. This is what we've got."

"Show me," said Grissom, sitting down at the large table and pulling on some latex gloves. He watched as his two CSIs opened their boxes, and explained their theory to him.

"Blood from the doorframe."

"Broken glass."

"Photographs of the kitchen."

"It's a mess."

"Broken vase."

"Stack of CDs knocked over."

"He put up a fight."

"Who would do this?"

"I don't know," said Grissom. "I'll let you carry on with this, I'll split the rest of the work between Catherine, Warrick, and myself. Keep me informed."

"We will," said Nick.

"Thanks Gris," added Sara, watching her supervisor leave the room.

!"£&()+

A/N: Next time out, let's see if Greg's died from blood loss yet...


	10. the next bit

A/N: I bet you're all REALLY mad at me, for not updating this story for yonks, so I'm going to post a whole load for you today, just to make up.

I'm really sorry if I've been neglecting my fanfiction account at the moment, but my writing has gone down a different road lately. It's been lots of slash, that is a bit TOO explicit to be posted here, sorry. I've also been busy working on my site, and I know I've neglected my writing.

So, I hope this helps, and I hope it's enough to tie you over to the next time I update.

Sorry!

!"£$&()+

"Can you tell me where it hurts, Greg?" Carly asked softly.

"Everywhere," whispered Greg.

Carly smiled. "Can you be a bit more specific? Let's deal with one thing at a time."

Greg swallowed. "My stomach hurts the most."

Carly lifted Greg's shirt, and saw the bullet hole in his stomach, still bleeding quite profusely. Instinctively, she put pressure on it, to try and slow the bleeding, but Greg's whole body convulsed from the sudden pain, and she let go. "Greg, I've got to do this."

"Sorry," said Greg, through gritted teeth.

Carly pressed her hand back against Greg's stomach, and a small scream escaped his lips. "I'm sorry."

"I'm okay," lied Greg.

Carly looked around the van, the driver and passenger had both disappeared, Carly didn't know where they were. She turned back to Greg, who was losing consciousness constantly. "Stay with me Greg!"

"I'm here," said Greg, opening his eyes. "So, are you a doctor?"

"Uh huh. Chief resident at desert palm ER."

"You're good?"

"The best," smiled Carly. "What about you? What do you do?"

"I work at the crime lab," explained Greg. "If you ever get out of here, will you go and tell them that? Will you go and find Gil Grissom? He's my boss. Go and find him, and tell him I'm okay, he'll know what to do."

"Greg, I'm not leaving here without you."

"But, i-if you d-do, will you go and find Grissom? Please?"

"Of course."

"Thank y-" Greg's eyes closed.

"Greg?" said Carly, putting two fingers on Greg's neck. "Greg, wake up! Dammit Greg!"

!"£$&()+

"Go on, get out!" said Carson, hauling Carly to her feet. He threw her out of the van while it was still moving, and then closed the door and sped off. Carly picked herself to her feet, and wandered back into the hospital.

"Carly! Where the hell have you been!"

Carly turned around, and came face to face with the head of the ER. He didn't look pleased. "You're covered in blood!"

"I, uh-" began Carly. "Wait, I can't do this right now. There's something more important I need to do."

"Don't you dare walk out of here again!" boomed the attending. "Carly!"

Carly started the 6-block walk to the crime lab. She went up to the front desk, trembling slightly. "Hey. Can I see a Gil Grissom?"

"One moment, I'll page him for you," replied the receptionist. She picked up the phone, and dialled the number of Grissom's pager. "So, what happened to you?"

"Long story," replied Carly.

"Okay," said the receptionist, picking up on the fact that Carly didn't want to speak about her ordeal. "If you'd like to take a seat over there, Mr Grissom will be out shortly."

Carly went over to the row of chairs, and collapsed onto the second one in from the end. A few seconds later, she saw a man come out into reception. Tall, grey hair, glasses, bandy legs. The man spoke to the receptionist, and then headed over to Carly's direction.

"Gil Grissom?" she asked.

"Yes," he nodded, sitting down next to her. "And you would be-?"

"Carly Watts," she replied, holding her hand out for Grissom to shake, but then quickly pulling it back when she realised that it was covered in blood. "Sorry."

"Ms. Watts," began Grissom. "When a person calmly walks into my lab, and they're covered in blood-"

"No!" smiled Carly. "I haven't killed anyone, well, not out of work, but, anyways. Do you know a guy called Greg? He says he works here."

"Greg? Yes, I know Greg."

"Well, to cut a long story short, he's been kidnapped."

"And you know this because-?"

"-Because they kidnapped me too. To help him, see, he has a GSW, a gunsh-"

"I know what a GSW is."

"Okay. Huh, he has a GSW to the abdomen, and a suspected fractured leg. He's got cracked ribs, probably a broken nose- he's a mess."

"Where is he now?" asked Grissom.

"In the back of a van somewhere," replied Carly. "I don't know. I just know that if he doesn't get to a hospital soon, he's gonna die."

"I see," said Grissom. "And so, you're covered in his blood?"

Carly nodded. "I am."

"Can I process you for evidence?" asked Grissom.

"What do you mean?"

"Take your clothes, and process you for trace evidence? Epithelials, that sort of thing?"

"Okay. If you think it will help."

!"£$&()+

"Um, he was caucasian, male, about 40, probably 180 lbs..."

Carly was talking to a forensic artist. Grissom was stood out in the corridor, watching.

"Gris!" said Sara, marching up to him. "I just came from DNA. Got a match for the blood, it's definitely Greg's. Also got a match for the epithelials we found under Carly's fingernails. You'll never guess who it is."

Grissom opened his mouth to speak, but Sara didn't give him a chance to get the words out. "John Carson."

"Carson?" asked Grissom. "That name rings a bell."

"Yeah!" said Sara. "The case we pulled the other day, Greg shot the suspect. This guy is his cousin, probably looking for payback."

"Oh my god!" said Grissom.

"Got an adress," said Sara, proudly waving a piece of paper in front of Grissom.

"You go there," he said. "Take Nick. Be careful."

"We will."

!"£$&()+

"No answer," said Nick, peering through the window.

"Dammit," muttered Sara. She turned to the police officer next to her. "Can you, uh, break the door down?"

"Of course," he beamed.

!"£$&()+

"Got blood," said Sara. She and Nick were in the basement at Carlson's house.

"Got a bullet casing," said Nick, picking up his camera.

"I can't believe this has happened to Greg," said Sara, biting her lip.

"We'll get him back," said Nick reassuringly. "I know we will."

"Carly said he was in a bad way, Nick. What if he dies?"

"He won't die. He'll be fine."

"I hope so."

!"£$&()+

The CSIs were all sat around the table in the conference room, discussing their respective cases, still with no idea where Greg was, though they now knew how much trouble he was in. Grissom looked around at his CSIs. Warrick looked calm, Nick looked stressed, Catherine looked like she was putting on a front, and it was all Sara could do to keep from bursting into tears.

Grissom's cell phone rang. He took it out, and put it to his ear. "Grissom."

"Gil Grissom?"

"Yes. Who is this?"

"That's not important. Let's just say I have something you want."

"Excuse me?"

"Does the name Greg Sanders ring a bell?"

Grissom gasped. "Where is he?"

"He's right here. Would you like to speak to him?"

"Yes."

There was a short pause.

"Gris?" came a quiet voice, little more than a whisper, as though the owner of the voice was in great pain.

"Greg? Oh my god, are you okay?"

"No."

"Don't worry Greg. We're going to come and get you."

"I'm in the desert," mumbled Greg, his voice so slurred that the only word Grissom could make out was 'desert'.

"The desert?" he asked.

"Right then, Mister Grissom." Greg's captor had come back on the line. "I'm not going to hang up now, because you won't know how to find Greg if I do that, so I'm going to leave the line connected, and then you can have your wonderful people use whatever gadget it is you use to trace where this call is coming from, and then you can come get Greg. Okay?"

"Okay," said Grissom nervously.

"Good."

Grissom heard a gun shot. He gasped. "Greg? GREG!"

No reply.

"What's going on?" asked Catherine.

!"£$&()+

"I've got the trace," said Archie, pulling up a map of the desert. "That's where the cell phone is."

"Good work Archie," smiled Grissom. He turned to Catherine. "Let's go!"

The two CSIs left the lab, and headed out into the desert with their SATNAV. Catherine was on the phone to Archie the whole time, and Grissom had his cell phone out on the dash. After what seemed like a lifetime, they found Greg.

"There he is!" cried Catherine.

Grissom parked the car, and left the engine running. The two CSIs jumped out, and ran to Greg's side.

"Greggie?" asked Catherine. "Oh my god. Greggie?"

Greg stirred slightly, and whimpered in pain. He opened his eyes a little bit, but screwed them shut again because the bright sunlight was blinding him.

Grissom took his radio from his belt, and called for an ambulance.

"It's going to be okay Greggie," said Catherine, putting her hand on Greg's face. "It's going to be okay."

!"£$&()+

"Is he okay?" asked Nick.

"I don't know," said Grissom. "He's in surgery."

"Why?" asked Sara concernedly.

"He had two GSWs," explained Grissom, "and he's been severely beaten. It doesn't look good."

"Oh my god!" said Nick. "Is he going to die?"

"I don't know, Nicky," said Grissom, shaking his head. "I really don't know."

!"£$&()+

A/N: I hope that was enough for you, for now. The next part I have written down on paper somewhere, all I have to do is find it...


End file.
